undressing, of the shower door opening and closing, and shook his head. They had easily slipped into silence mid-conversation and stepped into a morning routine that felt as natural as if they had been sharing the space for years.
She claimed he was holding too tightly to the idea of them, suggesting she didn’t see a future for them, and then she slipped into the space he’d pictured her in.
With his thoughts never straying from the naked woman in his shower, Liam headed downstairs. In the living room, he turned the TV to the morning news. In the kitchen, he started coffee. Instinct said he’d need it more over the coming days than he normally did. And he remembered how much Grey loved the stuff.
After getting set up with a serrated knife and the small butcher block cutting board from the storage slot beneath the island counter top, he retrieved turkey bacon, eggs, cheese and tomatoes from the fridge and then the English muffins from the pantry.
The meal was simple, something he cooked a few times a week, but today the task held more pleasure. He had cooked for company before but never for Grey. It would annoy her if he said anything, but it was sort of like they were stealing time for a honeymoon, if they’d have chosen a honeymoon with a sick sibling and a killer on the hunt.
He cut the tomatoes into thin slices and laughed to himself. Nothing they had done was traditional. With the tomatoes sliced, he turned on the gas beneath the cooktop griddle. While the surface heated, he got a bowl and broke some eggs into it. Fork whipping them until they were fluffy, he skipped the milk most people added to scrambled eggs and instead added lemon pepper for seasoning.
With the bacon spread across the back half of the griddle, he poured the eggs in the middle. As they cooked he forked apart two muffins and laid them along the front.
He was flipping the bacon when Grey walked in. Clearly refreshed from a night’s sleep and a shower, the darkness beneath her eyes—blue today—was brighter. Her clothes, more subdued and sensible than the rebellious boldness of the lingerie she’d worn in Vegas, projected confidence. More importantly, they were unimpressive in a way that would allow her to blend into her surroundings.
His wife was smart. She had known she was inviting danger so she had packed disguises. As good as the disguise was, he saw the free spirit beneath the conservative image. Saw it and wanted her out of danger so she could be herself again. And so he could see if she’d kept the sexy scraps beneath.
She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “I smell coffee.”
“Sit. I’ll get you some.” He set the spatula aside and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. She settled at an island barstool while he filled the mugs and grabbed the creamer from the refrigerator. Her smile when he placed her coffee in front of her fulfilled a fantasy he had entertained since moving in.
“You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I cook every morning.” He played down how much he enjoyed her company, because admitting he would cook just to keep her around, if he thought it would help, would send her running.
“Well thank you.”
“Your pleasure is my pleasure.”
Grey looked into her coffee. Liam turned back to cooking.
He meant what he said, but he regretted giving the thought voice. If anything would send her running it would be mush. He’d watched his teammates and brother fall beneath love’s spell and been humored. He’d seen how soft they acted around their significant others and been haunted.
They’d discovered the kind of connection Liam had seen in his parents. It was the kind of connection that allowed two people to be themselves every minute. They could speak their minds and know the other would understand the intention even if the words were wrong. Laughter was as frequent as yelling, yet with it all was the knowledge that quiet, even silent, moments were natural. The best part of the connection was how it
She claimed he was holding too tightly to the idea of them, suggesting she didn’t see a future for them, and then she slipped into the space he’d pictured her in.
With his thoughts never straying from the naked woman in his shower, Liam headed downstairs. In the living room, he turned the TV to the morning news. In the kitchen, he started coffee. Instinct said he’d need it more over the coming days than he normally did. And he remembered how much Grey loved the stuff.
After getting set up with a serrated knife and the small butcher block cutting board from the storage slot beneath the island counter top, he retrieved turkey bacon, eggs, cheese and tomatoes from the fridge and then the English muffins from the pantry.
The meal was simple, something he cooked a few times a week, but today the task held more pleasure. He had cooked for company before but never for Grey. It would annoy her if he said anything, but it was sort of like they were stealing time for a honeymoon, if they’d have chosen a honeymoon with a sick sibling and a killer on the hunt.
He cut the tomatoes into thin slices and laughed to himself. Nothing they had done was traditional. With the tomatoes sliced, he turned on the gas beneath the cooktop griddle. While the surface heated, he got a bowl and broke some eggs into it. Fork whipping them until they were fluffy, he skipped the milk most people added to scrambled eggs and instead added lemon pepper for seasoning.
With the bacon spread across the back half of the griddle, he poured the eggs in the middle. As they cooked he forked apart two muffins and laid them along the front.
He was flipping the bacon when Grey walked in. Clearly refreshed from a night’s sleep and a shower, the darkness beneath her eyes—blue today—was brighter. Her clothes, more subdued and sensible than the rebellious boldness of the lingerie she’d worn in Vegas, projected confidence. More importantly, they were unimpressive in a way that would allow her to blend into her surroundings.
His wife was smart. She had known she was inviting danger so she had packed disguises. As good as the disguise was, he saw the free spirit beneath the conservative image. Saw it and wanted her out of danger so she could be herself again. And so he could see if she’d kept the sexy scraps beneath.
She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “I smell coffee.”
“Sit. I’ll get you some.” He set the spatula aside and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. She settled at an island barstool while he filled the mugs and grabbed the creamer from the refrigerator. Her smile when he placed her coffee in front of her fulfilled a fantasy he had entertained since moving in.
“You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I cook every morning.” He played down how much he enjoyed her company, because admitting he would cook just to keep her around, if he thought it would help, would send her running.
“Well thank you.”
“Your pleasure is my pleasure.”
Grey looked into her coffee. Liam turned back to cooking.
He meant what he said, but he regretted giving the thought voice. If anything would send her running it would be mush. He’d watched his teammates and brother fall beneath love’s spell and been humored. He’d seen how soft they acted around their significant others and been haunted.
They’d discovered the kind of connection Liam had seen in his parents. It was the kind of connection that allowed two people to be themselves every minute. They could speak their minds and know the other would understand the intention even if the words were wrong. Laughter was as frequent as yelling, yet with it all was the knowledge that quiet, even silent, moments were natural. The best part of the connection was how it
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